Tales of Nimereth
by Zephina
Summary: .


Tales of Nimereth: Camp Zenarin

Mali'ik, the twenty-year-old chosen warrior of Nimereth, was in his tent gearing up for battle, when he suddenly heard a guard's frantic shouting. "We're under attack! Faulken have breached our defenses!"

Mali'ik got into his combat state of mind, quickly grabbing his two longswords and attaching them to his belt. With greataxe in hand, he bolted out of the tent, unaffected by the enormous weight of his heavy plated armor and numerous weapons. He surveyed his surroundings, noticing the nearby burning tents that were obviously set ablaze by the invading forces.

The sounds of weapons clanging against one another accompanied with the shrieks of the wounded turned this night from silent to horrifying in a matter of seconds. Mali'ik spotted the closest group of combatants and hurried to aid his fellow soldiers. He evaluated the battle and chose to target the Faulken warrior who had equipped similar heavy plated armor, thinking that this warrior would be the greatest threat. Without slowing, Mali'ik leaped into the air and readied his greataxe for impact. In less than a second, Mali'ik landed in a crouched position, his enemy split in two roughly cut pieces behind him.

He swiftly got to his feet, leaving his greataxe behind and drawing the longswords from his belt with incredible speed. Mali'ik began fighting the remaining foes, easily parrying all of the opposing strikes and slicing each and every enemy with his free weapon.

During combat, Mali'ik detected an advancing Faulken assassin targeting him from behind. sensing the incoming blade, he effortlessly whirled around to face his foe, dropping one of his longswords in order to grab the assassin's forearm. In one swift motion, Mali'ik broke the bone, smashing the hilt of his blade onto the assassin's opposite elbow and bringing the sword up to his enemy's throat.

"Spare me! I beg of you. I can be of much use to you," a feminine voice pleaded, obviously frightened by the violent battle that unfolded before her eyes. "Why should I spare you, Faulken?" Mali'ik countered in a slow, calm tone. "You had intentions to kill me. Why shouldn't I just take your head off right now?" The assassin's body started to shake with fear as she begged for mercy. "I know battle movements, attack dates, times, and our encampments!"

Mali'ik could sense her desperation, and by her heavy breathing and careful movements, he observed she was in a lot of pain. Mali'ik knew she could be of use to him, but he also knew that assassins were sworn to carry out their contracts. He internally debated the consequences of sparing her life but came to the conclusion that, in her current state, she would be unable to inflict any sort of physical damage. He lowered his blade, taking notice of the relief that swept over the female's face.

Mali'ik clenched his jaw and grabbed the assassin's throat, lifting her to his eye level. "Faulken, I will spare your life; however, if you are uncooperative, deceitful, or try to cross me, I will not hesitate to remove your head from your shoulders." The assassin fell to the ground, gasping for air before Mali'ik bound her wrists and legs together tightly. Her wincing of pain did not go unnoticed as Mali'ik tightened her restrictions and threw her over his shoulder. He sheathed his swords and made his way to his axe, witnessing the death of the last remaining Faulken attackers fled and were picked off by the Nimereth archers with their superior aeroth bone bows.

Fifteen guards were lost in battle. Fifty-seven Faulken fell during the attempted seige. Only one Nimereth warrior was not accounted for. His corpse was found the next morning during the hefty body count. It was charred, and sadly, the conclusion was that the warrior was resting for the upcoming battle. However, he felt no pain because he was a Nimereth warrior, and these warriors feel no pain nor discomfort.

Mali'ik walked through the burned camp, searching for a combat medic for the assassin on his shoulder. When he spotted one, he shouted, "You there, medic! I need you to patch this girl up. I cannot afford to lose her." The medic hurried over to the warrior, taking a suspicious eye to the wounded girl. "Sir, she is Faulken – our enemy," the medic blankly stated, forgetting his place and his rank. Mali'ik aggressively grabbed the medic by his aeroth mail chest piece. "Have you forgotten, medic? I am your commander. You will do what I say. No exceptions! Do I make myself clear?" Mali'ik sternly questioned. The medic quickly and silently answered Mali'ik's questions with a nod and applied a healing tonic to the assassin's injuries before swiftly bandaging her up. "She should be healed by tomorrow, Commander, but I have my doubts because I am unfamiliar with the Faulken race. We are also running low on tonics and food. We will have to make a trip to Conireth soon to resupply," the medic informed. Mali'ik nodded his understanding before throwing the assassin over his shoulder and making his way to his tent.

"When is the next attack?" Mali'ik questioned, standing over the female assassin, successfully waking her from her much needed rest. She quickly stood in front of him. "Two nights from now."

Mali'ik observed the Faulken's small stature and frame and pegged her height to be around five feet tall, average for her race and gender; however, he easily had two feet on her, standing tall at seven feet. "Two nights from now," Mali'ik repeated to himself. "Direction?" he further questioned. "South," she answered bluntly. "Time?" "Midnight." Mali'ik nodded. "Good. We will be ready to ambush them."

Mali'ik bent down and picked up a set of aeroth leather armor. "We need to get you out of that weak Faulken armor if you are to survive. Let me help you put these on." Unbeknownst to the Faulken, Mali'ik had crafted this armor himself while she slept. "What is your name, assassin?" he questioned while dressing the Faulken in her new armor. "Ronah," she stated surprised, obviously unfamiliar with the caring tone and actions Mali'ik was showing her.

Once completely equipped, Ronah faced Mali'ik and knelt before him, bowing her head in submission. "I am at your command. Tell me, commander, what needs to be done?" Mali'ik hid his shock at her action and declaration, and responded calmly. "If that is the case, you will prove your worth and loyalty to me. You will lead a group of assassin's during the next attack. My archer's will be watching your every step from afar, and if one Faulken reaches my camp alive or if you disobey my command, I will order them to open fire. Do I make myself clear, Ronah?" Ronah nodded her head, eyes still focused on the ground and responded. "It will be done." She raised her head and looked into Mali'ik's eyes. "How many Faulken have you spared before me?" she questioned. Mali'ik's expression did not change, but his eyes changed to a deeper color. "Ronah, I have never let a Faulken live. Many have begged, but none have survived. You are the first I have spared. With my army dwindling in numbers from the attacks, you have become a great asset to me." Ronah bowed her head and clenched her jaw, fidgeting with her new leather armor. "Mali'ik… one of your kind setup my contract to kill you," Ronah stated quietly. She raised her head, swallowing hard as Mali'ik's blade was pointed at her neck. "Who?"


End file.
